


penmanship

by amuk



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Introspection, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: Roy did not get promoted for paperwork. --Roy, Riza





	penmanship

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: royai, manga/brotherhood canon,
> 
> Set post-series, written for rizahawkeye for the FMA Secret Santa. Hope you enjoy!

 

 

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Roy complained, his head on his desk as he pushed a piece of paper forward with a finger. His office was bigger than it used to be but somehow that just meant more room for desk duties than anything else.

 

“Sir, getting promoted means more paperwork,” Riza chided as she set another stack of papers on his desk. Somewhere, he was sure Hughes was laughing at him. She rifled through his _done_ stack, a disapproving frown on her face. “You’re behind.”

 

He shot her a baleful glare. “I was promoted. I should be above this.”

 

“You didn’t get promoted high enough to not do it,” she retorted, a low blow. Especially considering that her grandfather stole Fuhrer from him. Maybe she needed to retake the sensitivity training course; Black Hayate would thank him for that. “You’re stuck here until it’s done.”

 

Roy spun in his chair, turning to their window. A snow-covered city waited outside, the muted colours and dull sounds barely filtering through the frosted panes. “It’s Christmas,” he pointed out, just in case the city’s decorations hadn’t given it away. “Prime dating time. I have a reputation to maintain.”

 

“Don’t worry, your subordinates saw that I am in today, they’ll understand.” Riza’s expression grew more disproving, if possible. “Procrastination only means you stay here longer.” With that, she picked up his completed stack and went to her temporary desk, set this morning just across the room. His office was invaded and there was no chance of reprieve.

 

Maybe he should just burn the papers. Gazing at them intensely, he contemplated the easiest escape route. The window, perhaps. Or maybe the bathroom.

 

“And sir, I’ll notice any ashes.”

 

Despite her light-hearted tone, Roy shivered. Nope, that was not a viable option. He’d have better chances at staging a coup and forcing Grumman to retire from Fuhrer. After, he could hire a sexy secretary to complete all—the sound of the safety clicking off softly resonated through the air. Clenching his jaw, Roy pulled another report to look at.

 

The quiet scratching of pens filled the air, the only sound in their near empty wing. Everyone else had headed home already and outside his lit office there was only darkness. Outside, families and lovers milled the streets. From the corner of his eye, he watched Riza carefully file her own reports. Her posture was perfect as wrote—even in her free time, he had almost never seen her slouch or relax, her spine as rigid as her morals.

 

As rigid as the military rules that kept them separate. It would be decades before they could be anything other than subordinate and superior. Not until he became Fuhrer, at least, and maybe not even then. Once, Riza had told him that she would always protect him. He feared she meant even after he reached his goal.

 

Opening a drawer, he called for her. “Riza, I got you something.”

 

She raised her brow at the use of her first name. Letting it slide since no one else was around, she approached his desk. “Something?”

 

“A gift.” Pulling out a black box, he held it out for her. When Riza didn’t take it, merely looking at him questioningly, he amended, “A year end gift. Think of it as your Christmas bonus.”

 

“I’d prefer a check.” Despite her words, she picked it up, the excuse acceptable enough. “Thank you.”

 

When she opened it, revealing the silver pen inside, he joked, “For all your paperwork.”

 

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Her lips pulled up slightly, her eyes gentle as she picked up the pen. “Thank you,” she repeated, her expression soft. On the pen, her last name was engraved, and her fingers slowly traced the letters.

 

“It’s nothing.” And it wasn’t, really, compared to flowers or jewellery or anything of the sort. Then again, Riza had never desired those things in the first place. Just as she’d never wanted to marry or date or any of the trappings of a relationship—his side was enough, she’d told him once. Having his back was all she needed.

 

And to be honest, that was all he needed as well.

 

Closing the box again, she added softly, “I hope this is not bribery.”

 

Roy chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I had to try.”

 

“As long as your tries are limited to this room.” Her smile finally dropped, though her eyes were still bright. “Now sir, your paperwork.”


End file.
